Fever
by SophieRomanoff
Summary: Clint comes home from a mission sick and with a fever. Natasha obviously comes and looks after him. Mainly fluff with some hurt/comfort. Day 17 of prompt challenge.


Hey everyone! Welcome to day 17.

Kotyonok- kitten

I give you

FEVER

Clint groaned softly, yanking the covers back and kicking them onto the floor.

He'd been tossing and turning for the best part of three hours, exhausted in body and mind but unable to get to sleep.

He'd come back from a solo mission, relatively unscathed but just plain tired. He'd figured he'd gotten sick walking through the towns market and was just generally run down.

Natasha had been sent on a solo mission at the same time as him and hadn't returned yet. His phone sat next to him, as he waited anxiously for any news.

Coulson was swamped with work, and he had no one else to go to.

He must have drifted off because when he woke, there was a cold hand on his forehead.

Without opening his eyes, he knew immediately who it was and he exhaled, some of the tension he'd been holding melting away.

"Natasha." He breathed, letting his eyelids flutter open.

"Hey." She said softly, brushing back the sticky strands of his hair.

"Do you want me to help you down to medical?" She murmured.

"No, hell no." He groaned, struggling into a sitting position. "I'm alright, just got a cold or something', not a big deal."

Natasha pursed her lips but nodded.

"Alright. But you're burning up, let me get a wet cloth and some meds into you." She hummed, still stroking his hair.

"Mm, I'm completely fine with you playing nurse." He smiled weakly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I am not your nurse." She said fondly.

He just grinned lazily at her. "Sure, Tash."

"Hush. Or I will drag you to medical and let them deal with you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, Hawk." She quipped.

"Stay there, I'll be right back." She pushed him back down, righting his pillows and laying him back.

She went into the bathroom and pottered around the cupboards before coming over.

"Natasha, angel, you are a lifesaver." He grinned.

"I know." She shrugged, laying to cold cloth over his forehead and showing him the rest she'd brought.

"How was the mission?" Clint murmured.

"Boring. Mainly recon. Didn't even get into a fight." She rolled her eyes.

"Boring without me, you mean." Clint grinned.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Clint." She hummed good naturedly.

She sat him up a little to pop some pills in his mouth, pressing the water cup to his mouth for him to drink.

"It's best if you try and get some more sleep. Then we'll get you some food if you can manage it. Have you been sick?"

"A couple of hours ago, I feel queasy but I don't think I'll throw up again." He grimaced.

"I'll bring a bowl in case." She hummed. "Sleep now, kotyonok."

He did just that, sinking into the pillows and closing his eyes.

He woke to find a worried Natasha hovering over him. His throat ached and his stomach roiled.

Grimacing, he jerked up and stumbled off the bed and to the bathroom. He sank to his knees in front of the toilet.

Retching violently, he clutched his stomach, groaning softly as he threw up the meds and water Natasha had gotten into him.

When he felt a little better, he sank bonelessly into Natasha's waiting arms.

"Sorry." He murmured.

"Don't be. At least it's not like Budapest. You threw up all over me." She chuckled, rubbing his back.

"You're a saint, Romanoff." He murmured.

"Tell me about it." She smiled, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. She winced and pulled away, her smile dropping.

"You're a lot warmer." She murmured. "Does your throat hurt?"

"A little. Did I have a nightmare?"

She nodded. "I woke you up from one." She passed. "I think I should take you to medical."

He shook his head. "For the stomach flu? Nah. I'll have a bath and it'll sort itself out. You don't have to stay."

"Don't be ridiculous, Clint. I'll run the bath." She said sweetly.

She turned to place him against the wall and ran the bath. She stuck her fingers under the tap to check the temperature. It was cool, but not freezing, because that would be agony on his hot skin.

"Up you get." She hummed, lifting him from his armpits. She helped him get undressed and lowered him into the water.

He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling shakily.

"I've got you. Easy." She murmured, smoothing her hand over his hair.

She lifted the portable shower head and gently moved it over his shoulders and neck, wetting his hair but not his face.

As she did that with one hand, her other worked into the muscles on his neck and down his back.

He groaned, leaning forward. "Damn, Tash, that's good."

"Well I owe you. I had that crick in my back for weeks before you managed to work it out."

She gently set the shower head down and touched her hand to his forehead.

"You're a little cooler, c'mon, let's get you out."

With a lot of manoeuvring and splashing, she had him in a pair of boxers and on the bed.

She helped him wash his mouth out from being sick and began feeding him crackers, intermitted with a lot of water.

After that, she settled him under the blanket. He was shuddering now, freezing where earlier he'd been unable to stand the blanket against his skin.

She hushed him as he tried to speak, kissing his forehead and loveably stroking his hair.

He fell asleep with her wrapped protectively around him.

She woke to his pained whimpers, immediately on her knees as she pulled the blanket off him.

She'd thought at first he was having a bad dream but she was panicked to realise he was having a seizure.

She stepped off the bed and pressed her phone to her ear, telling medical to expect Agent Barton.

She then made sure his head was pillowed as she watched his jaw clench and his body spasm.

She could almost feel the heat coming off him and knew the seizure had been caused by his temperature.

She counted in her head, wincing with each shudder and strangled gasp.

When he finally stilled, she touched his face to rouse him, speaking to him calmly.

"You're alright, Clint, you're in your room at Shield. You had a seizure and you have a temperature. I'm gonna get you down to medical." She breathed, his glazed eyes meeting hers but seeing straight through her.

With a lot of heavy lifting, she got him down to medical, out of breath as she placed him on the free bed.

Half an hour later, Clint was settled into medical.

He had an IV in the crook of his arm, giving him saline and glucose because he was close to dehydration. He had anti-seizure meds pumping through his veins.

Ice packs were placed along his ankles, wrists and groin, a thin blanket covering his body.

He looked peaceful, sleeping off the worst of the infection.

He stayed in medical until he was well enough to go back to his room.

Natasha stayed the entire time. She fed him crackers and water, gave him his medicine, soothed his brow and held him through the dreams.

On the fourth day, his fever broke and he woke up with her sleeping against his chest.

"Natasha?" He breathed, touching her hair.

She startled and jumped up, blinking the sleepiness from her eyes.

"Clint." She grinned and bent to press a kiss to his lips.

She hummed softly, her hand sliding into his.

"Welcome back."


End file.
